


Nothing to be Afraid Of

by Shadow_Of_Castiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-12
Updated: 2010-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-11 01:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Of_Castiel/pseuds/Shadow_Of_Castiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is awkward around Castiel, until a power cut during a summer storm allows them to sort out their issues with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing to be Afraid Of

**Author's Note:**

> ritten for the Supernatural Summer Solstice Challenge, 2010.

Dean stood at the window of the motel room, body weary and aching in several places, cuts, bruises blossoming in choice places on his skin. He closed his eyes against the glare of a bright white lightning bolt flaring against the blackness of the thick clouds above, before listening to the rhythmic drumming of heavy rain thrumming against the roof and the windows of the poorly insulated motel room. He found the steady downfall relaxing instead of a distraction or a nuisance, finding the steady susurration a soothing balm against his frayed nerves.

Castiel hadn't shown all day and Dean was worried about him. He hadn't shown his face too much ever since he'd carved a sigil into his chest at the disused muffler factory, where Dean had finally ganked Zachariah. The hunter snorted, thought of the times that Castiel had been around, strangely reticent, more pre-disposed to silence and bouts of staring off into the distance, lips moving as though in some inner dialogue only the angel could hear. Truth be told, Dean was worried about him.

"Dean, can you at least sit down for five minutes?" Sam groused, scrolling through endless pages and browser windows on his laptop, gaze barely flickering up and over at his brother still stationed at the window.

"Yeah. In a minute," Dean huffed out, a little grumpily yet still not making a move from the window in front of him.

He continued watching, eyes squeezing shut every few seconds when a bright flash announced the arrival of another lightning bolt, ears ringing after every crash and smash of thunder threatening to break the world apart outside. Every time it happened, Dean almost imagined Lucifer to be standing, waiting outside, waiting to come in and claim Sam for his own, permission or no permission. Dean could also imagine all too clearly Michael standing outside, great sword glinting in the meager light, flashing with reflected bursts of lightning bolts playing against cool metal.

"Dean," Sam said pointedly, gaze now resting firmly on his brother's body, brows pulled low over hazel eyes in irritation, a scowl.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sitting down," Dean groused.

Dean didn't look pleased at being called away from the window, from his vantage point of seeing if things were going to get nasty, nor of watching Mother Nature take her toll on the Earth below in a deluge of summer storms. Dean was hoping it was Mother Nature having a hand and a say so in things rather than it being another sign of the impending Apocalypse. He was seriously tired of all this Apocalypse crap.

Sam didn't stop staring at him, not even when Dean had settled down, or was as settled as he was ever going to be when he was wound as tight as a corkscrew waiting to ping off in all directions and cause damage. Dean pretended not to notice, swung his feet high before his slouched body, before Sam's weighted, pointed stare became too much for the elder Winchester and he stared back with pointed menace at his brother.

"What?" Dean asked, voice harsh, challenging, making Sam's eyebrows rise over suspicious eyes, forehead crinkling in surprised fascination at his brother.

"What's up with you, Dean? You're acting like you're waiting on something," Sam remarked, finally flipping his laptop closed and leaning back on his chair, front legs dangerously swinging from the ground as he balanced on the back legs.

"Am not," Dean predictably replied, looking away uncomfortably. "Oh wait, I forgot. It's the Apocalypse, douchebag. Maybe I'm waiting for that."

"We've been waiting on the Apocalypse for months. That's not what you're waiting for, is it, Dean?" Sam asked, patience tempering his voice as he continued staring at his brother pointedly.

"Is too," Dean replied, proving that his thirty year old body really did house an inner five year old somewhere in there.

"Dean," Sam coaxed, pointedly, deciding not to give up until Dean had spilled forth his problems, knowing that Dean was the last to admit to even having any problems, preferring to bottle everything deep inside.

Dean was silent so long, Sam began to give up hope of ever hearing his brother's voice again, or to hear him speak at all. Then he was surprised from his reverie he hadn't even realized he'd even slipped into by Dean's deep voice breaking the thunder soaked silence between them.

"It's Cas," Dean murmured, voice seemingly dragged from his throat by an inexorable force that seemed an outside influence to Dean himself.

Sam waited, confirmation of his deepest suspicions relaxing his muscles now that he knew he was getting closer to the truth. Dean didn't say a further word, just sat there in silence staring at the scuffed, worn toes of his boots, fingers laced over his abdomen, eyes blind and turned inwards to some inward monologue that only Dean could hear.

"And?" Sam prompted, breaking the silence and making Dean startle suddenly, limbs stiffening, straightening from crooked positions as he raised his eyes to meet Sam's indignantly, as though blaming Sam for some unknown discretion.

"What?" Dean asked, voice harsh, too harsh for the room at large, filling it with loudness

"And? What is it about Cas that's got you so worked up?" Sam asked, eyes narrowed at his brother as though coming to a conclusion all of his own, uncertain as to whether said conclusions were correct or even how he felt about them yet.

Dean stared at him openly, then sighed, muscular shoulders rising and falling wearily, before he started talking again.

"I'm worried about him, okay? Doesn't he seem awkward to you?" he asked, choosing his words carefully yet still coming up short as to what he wanted to say.

"It's Cas. He's always awkward and always has been awkward ever since we met him," Sam pointed out wearily. "It must be an angel thing."

"No, Sam it's not an angel thing. No other angel is awkward like Cas," Dean insisted sharply, thinking of Gabriel, Zachariah, Raphael, Michael, none of whom could be described as being socially awkward.

Sam sighed, guessed at his train of thought before finally nodding at his brother.

"Okay, so it's not an angel thing, it's a Cas thing. Why is Cas' awkwardness making you go on a trip to freaky loo loo land?" Sam asked, lips thinning out into a displeased smile.

"Excuse me? Did you just say freaky loo loo land?" Dean asked, gaping at his brother in open disbelief, wondering if he'd heard right.

"Yes, I did say freaky loo loo land. You're deliberately sidestepping the question and you know it, Dean," Sam pointed out, tapping Dean's ankle with his foot wearily.

"Okay. Does Cas seem extra quiet to you? A bit on the - " and Dean cut himself off, unable to say what he'd been thinking aloud for fear of making it come true.

"A bit on the what, Dean?" Sam asked, brows furrowing together and making him look like the world's largest perplexed chipmunk.

"Human side," Dean murmured, before getting to his feet sharply with a loud curse. "Hell, just think about it, Sammy - all the drink, the hangovers, the silence and freaky staring, staying away from me - us - "

Dean stopped his tirade, unsure of quite what he was saying or where he was headed with his outburst, running desperate fingers against the back of his neck as he stared blindly at the floor.

"I dunno, dude, he just seems broken somehow," and Dean turned away, jaw clenching, eyes catching a stray bolt of lightning and wincing against the brightness of it, leaving bright flashes of bright white color against his retinas.

Sam sighed and Dean heard his brother shuffle his feet against the worm carpet, a deadly silence that could only mean one thing - Sam was thinking. Dean waited, knew that Sam would say whatever was on his mind no matter just how hard Dean himself tried to stop him, so decided to let him run with it and scoff at him later.

"Don't you think you're going a bit - " and then Sam cut himself off almost guiltily.

Dean turned, impaled his brother with a glance before he said - "A bit what, Sammy?"

"Overboard. Like there's something going on between you than just friendship," Sam said, looking awkward and shuffling away from an expected blow from Dean's open hand.

"More than just friendship?" Dean questioned, getting ready to scoff but not quite having the heart to do so.

Despite his instinct otherwise, Dean knew his brother had a point, that maybe Sam was being more concise at sorting out Dean's feelings on the matter than Dean was himself. He sat down wearily on the edge of one bed, scrubbing his hand over his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose between shaking fingers. He thought of Castiel, how the angel had become ever more increasingly despondent as time went by, the longer he was barred from Heaven and his position of power, how Castiel had seemed to gravitate naturally to Dean's side every time the angel needed help. He thought of how he himself was always glad to have Castiel there, despite his nerdy tendencies; somehow things just seemed better when Castiel was around - at least for him, they were.

He thought of how much it had hurt when Castiel had said he couldn't stand to see Dean fail, as though the angel no longer quite trusted him. It felt as though Dean himself had disappointed Castiel so badly, it was as if there was nothing on Earth that Dean could do to change a thing. It hurt; all of it hurt and Dean knew that that could only mean one thing, something he just wasn't used to feeling. It was love - he loved Castiel and went through every emotion that a true relationship should go through and he was surprised at the relief he felt flooding through him with the acknowledgement of the fact.

"Dean?" Sam asked, curiously and it was only then that Dean realized that he still hadn't answered his brother yet, had left Sam hanging without words of explanation.

Dean glanced up at him and Sam flinched at the pain held deep within Dean's gaze, bringing back memories of Dean's confessions of all that he'd done in Hell. Sam cleared his throat, opened his mouth as though to say that Dean didn't have to say a thing, but the elder hunter waved him down, hand outstretched to forestall words.

"You're right, Sammy - there's more there than just friendship, or there is on my part," Dean said, words dragging from his chest uncomfortably as though each syllable had weights attached to them.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, deliberately keeping his voice bland so as not to spook Dean into clamming up in the way that only Dean could do.

"Yeah. I think I love him, Sam," Dean said, words mumbled and rushed as though in embarrassment.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Dean," Sam told him gently. "If that's the way you feel ... "

"I do, I feel something, a lot for Cas, and I don't know what to do about it," Dean gritted out, teeth clenched in frustration. "I don't even know if he likes me any more, let alone - "

"He does, Dean, I think he does," Sam broke the news gently. "Why do you think he's been acting strangely lately? I think he doesn't know how to deal with the situation either. Look how he went into the warehouse, with his chest carved up. That was for you, because it certainly wasn't for me. He thinks I'm an abomination. At least he's only disappointed in you, and doesn't think you're a monster. I think he loves you and doesn't know how to deal with it."

Dean listened, almost rejected his brother's words as explanations to make him feel better, but somehow he couldn't. Somehow he wanted to believe what Sam had said, needed to believe it and cling to his words like he was drowning and needed the lifeline. He blew out a weary breath, then leant back as a particularly loud crack of thunder rattled the windows, bright strobing light flashing against the walls and Castiel was there, appeared by angelic magic, shoulders slumped in weariness.

"Cas," Dean said, getting up immediately and heading towards the angel, reaching out to support him as Castiel stumbled a little.

The angel smiled at Dean a little drunkenly, but let the hunter support him, lead him over to the bed and settle him down upon the counterpane like a fragile bird. Dean sat beside him, didn't move away when Castiel scooted closer to him, knees touching as though the angel needed something solid against his body. The hunter stopped himself - just barely - from touching the angel's knee, from holding his hand, from all out hugging him, for God's sake, anything to make sure that Castiel was alright.

"You got it bad," Sam said, with a dry chuckle, noticing Dean's struggle as though it were his own.

"What, Sam?" Castiel asked, looking up at the younger Winchester with surprisingly sharp blue eyes despite his apparent drunkenness of a few moments before.

"Nothing, Cas. I was talking to my brother," Sam said, with a wry twist to his lips as he stood up.

It seemed as though that one action caused the lights to flicker, to steady, to flicker again, to plunge the room into an impenetrable darkness so thick, Dean wondered if he'd gone blind for an instant. It was only when Castiel observed that the lights had gone out that Dean even knew that it wasn't just him.

"Oh great, that's just peachy, dude. I mean, what the hell? Seriously?" Dean gabbled, unsure as to what to say, what to do when all he wanted, all he could suddenly think about was to jump Castiel's bones or something.

It was as if admitting as much as he had to his brother had opened the floodgates and nothing could stop it but a kiss, a hug, a caress, maybe more from the angel beside him.

"Dean, it's just a power cut. I'm sure that it'll come back on in a moment," Sam said, calmly, sitting back down upon the bed and settling in to wait.

The power didn't come back on in a moment, neither did it come back on in ten, or fifteen. When Dean was starting to fidget, to grumble and grouse practically consistently, Sam decided he'd had enough.

"Listen, I'm going to the main office, okay? I'll see if they have a generator and need some help. They might even have some candles or a flashlight or two. You'd like some candles wouldn't you Dean?" Sam asked, suddenly grateful for limited vision, and being able to avoid a punch from his brother.

"Shut the hell up, Sam," Dean snapped, unable to do anything else but gripe at him.

Castiel meanwhile remained quiet through the exchange and remained so up until the time that Sam left, still laughing and now swaddled in his jacket to protect him from at least some of the rain.

"What did he mean, Dean?" the angel asked, deep voice quiet and contemplative and Dean felt the weight of his intense gaze despite the fact that he couldn't actually see the angel properly.

"You know what? I think it's best if you didn't ask," Dean said, after a moment's pause unable to know how to put his thoughts into words suddenly.

How could Dean confess his undying love for the angel like some chick flick that he always railed against? It just went against everything that Dean stood for and it always was beyond him to put his thoughts into words anyway. Instead he usually relied on actions to get his point across and he didn't much fancy the idea of going against a righteously smitey angel if he kissed him and the kiss was unwanted.

"I think Sam wants us to get romantic with candles," Castiel observed with a slight smile that was evident in the darkness by the warmth of his voice.

"You think?" Dean asked, more sarcastically than he'd intended.

"Would you be so against that?" Castiel asked, a rare show of hesitation in his tone that Dean wasn't used to being there.

Dean didn't know what to say to that at first, so answered Castiel's question with a question - "Would you?"

"No, Dean," came Castiel's quiet response.

Dean didn't react at first until Castiel's words caught up with his brain and he leant forward, almost bumping noses with the angel in the darkness, breath mingling and huffing in the gap between them.

"Wait, what? What did you say, Cas?" Dean asked, hope evident in his tone and making his voice lighter than it's usual gruff tones.

"I said no, I would not be against that, Dean," Castiel replied, softly and Dean leant away.

"Well, I'll be damned," Dean said softly.

"No, you won't. I, on the other hand - " and Castiel's voice trailed off.

"You won't, Cas, you're not damned. I hate it when you talk like that," Dean retorted, actually reaching out to take the angel's hands and twist his fingers between his own for emphasis.

He was gratified to see that Castiel didn't attempt to pull away; instead he clutched at Dean's hand as though the hunter was his last lifeline and maybe he was.

"Maybe I'm not damned, Not when I'm with you anyway," Castiel said softly as though he too was uncomfortable with the situation.

"Why do you keep staying away then? You're spending more and more time away from me, from us. I thought you hated us, and you blamed me still for everything," Dean said, voice tight and he'd be damned if that wasn't a tear tracking its way down his cheek.

"I don't blame you, I never did. You failed my expectations of you but I still loved you, as I always have," Castiel replied, immediately, voice strengthening and picking up speed as he continued to talk, trying to blurt everything he could out before he lost confidence.

"You don't - you can't - you're an angel. You're supposed to love everyone. Is that what you mean?" Dean asked, but hoping for the opposite.

"No, Dean. Technically what you're saying is true - I love all of humanity as they're my Father's creations, but I have an especial love for you," Castiel replied, one hand raising to cup Dean's cheek gently. "I always have and it became more than just a love for my charge. I love you, for who you are, for what you are and everything you can be."

Dean didn't pull away; instead he leant into the angel's touch, eyes closing as he felt the softness of the skin much longed for against his cheek.

"Cas," Dean breathed, all the words he couldn't say poured into the angel's name.

Castiel shushed him, before he leant in, and pressed soft lips against Dean's mouth, warm, silken, plush against the hunter's lips. Dean hesitated, unused to this level of intimacy with the angel, who he still kind of thought as a dude, then all inhibitions disappeared and he kissed him back, ferociously. Every last frustrated piece of repressed love held back for too long came pouring out, pushed into Castiel's mouth with his tongue, pushed further into his body as Dean's hands grappled uselessly at the angel's side. Castiel was a surprisingly good kisser despite the initial awkwardness and the slight sloppiness of the kiss, but Dean didn't care. All he cared about was the way their mouths fitted together just perfectly, as though they were meant to be kissing each other and nothing in the world had felt so right as it did right then.

Castiel pulled away, breath puffing out in tickling gasps against Dean's cheek as a glow settled deep within Dean's chest.

"I have waited so long to do that to you, dude," he murmured, leaning in to press another kiss to Castiel's plump lips.

Castiel moaned into the hunter's open mouth, sucked gently on Dean's tongue, before caressing the inside of Dean's mouth with his own tongue. Dean pushed Castiel down upon the bed, covered Castiel with his own weight, pinning him there, a willing prisoner upon a cheap motel mattress.

When the kiss ended, they were left breathless, bodies entwined comfortably and Castiel said - "You shouldn't have left it so long, Dean. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"I know," Dean admitted, with a smile. "I know that now. I've just never done this before, okay? I don't know how it's supposed to go."

"We have plenty of time to figure it out, Dean," Castiel said, with a surprising rumble of a laugh reverberating against Dean's chest. "Haven't we?"

This last was said as though he expected Dean to run at the first chance, to leave him behind broken hearted as he'd done so many times before to one night stands a plenty.

"We've got plenty of time, Cas," Dean agreed, immediately, surprising himself at the ease with which he spoke the words. "I guess - I guess before I didn't know what I wanted."

Castiel remained silent as though waiting for the hunter to continue, relaxing when he heard Dean's voice break the brief silence between them.

"I just didn't realize before that what I wanted was you," he said, sounding amazed as though at his own revelation.

The angel remained silent, a feeling of intense pleasure coiling through him as he cupped Dean's face with both hands gently, pads of his thumbs rubbing against the hunter's cheeks gently. He didn't resist when the hunter kissed him again, open mouths and tongues clashing, labored breathing exchanged against teeth and open mouths. They still were kissing when the return of the electricity preceded the arrival of Sam, carrying candles in his large hands and cursing at being too late with the alternative lighting.

Neither Dean nor Castiel reacted to his loudly cursing arrival and Sam soon fell silent, smiling despite his soaked state from the rain and his disappointment at not being able to light the candles and give Dean and Castiel the romantic atmosphere he thought they needed. When they continued kissing and didn't take notice of him, he quietly arranged the candles around them, lit them with the book of matches he'd taken from the front desk of the motel, snapping off the main light as he left the motel room. He didn't mind spending one night in the Impala if it meant that Dean and Castiel continued sorting their issues out with each other - something that had needed doing a long time ago, in Sam's opinion ....

-fini-


End file.
